Work that Kills
by Sis Spiffy
Summary: The Dragonborn is late, really late. This alone made Vilkas nervous. Seeing her pack in the corner and not with her wasn't helping his nerves either. After waiting for too long, Vilkas had to go find her.


Heya! I don't own Skyrim, or even a piece of the sky. Minor, little baby, I-don't-even-know-if-it-counts spoiler for the No Stone Left Unturned quest.

* * *

He paced around the room, making laps around the small hearth used for cooking. The man ran a hand through his coarse, black hair. He needed it cut, it was too long for his liking. He went another lap around the fire and sighed. Vilkas was worried.

She had told him she would be back Middas morning at the latest. Now it was past the midnight hour on Middas and there was no sign of her. He would not be so worried if he did not pass her knapsack every trip around the fire. The pack was filled with all her secondary weapons, potions and food. He knew the harm that could befall her without them.

She assured him it was a short trip, a few hours hard ride. She had business above Solitude. That wouldn't worry him, except he knew the danger of the creatures that roamed the cold environment. His mind was marred by the claws and teeth of the animals he imagined harming his wife. A growl built in his chest as he pictured killing any beast that dare to touch his wife.

A snarl ripped from his throat and he punched the wall of the Breezehome, sending splinters of wood flying. For a moment he felt bad for the minor damage he inflicted on the wall, but then ignored it as he knew his wife would never notice. He withdrew his hand, ignoring the sting, as he heard the tell-tale clank of Lydia's metal armor shifting.

"I'm-Its just me Lydia." He smelled the adrenaline pour into her veins and felt guilty for startling her. Vilkas rubbed his right hand, his palm running over the slightly torn flesh. He felt his beast blood speed his healing process and knit the broken skin together.

He needed something to do, something to distract him. The moon hanging in the sky discouraged the Nord, for Vilkas held no desire to disrupt anyone for the sake of himself.

"Sleep, Lydia, I am fine. I will watch for her." The bulky man called up the stairs gently. Shortly after, he heard her stand. The sound of her armor knocking together echoing in his ears.

While the housecarl slept, Vilkas continued his pacing around the fire, only stopping to stoke the dying embers. He absently wondered who was with her. She always had someone with her, shadowing her movements, protecting her. Vilkas could recall her reply to his jealous question concerning her many male followers being simply, "I need a pack mule."

Vilkas smiled at the memory. He had learned to respect the many loyal men and women that had protected his wife. The Nord kicked himself for his inability to recall her latest follower's face. Why hadn't he insisted he accompany her? He was a real warrior, but who knew about her newest pet?

Vilkas passed his now fully healed hand over his face and groaned.

x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

It was when the sun peaked over the horizon, bathing the house in golden warmth that Vilkas begin to lose hope. The bright rays were mocking him, signaling a new, safe day, when he felt like today would bring just the opposite. The Breezehome was quiet when Vilkas sat down at the small table in the kitchen, his bones aching with fatigue. The sleepy man poured a tankard of ale and stared down at it. His eyelids weighed heavily, begging for sleep but he refused to give in. His armor was off and he sat, exposed, in a simple tunic. He merely watched the bitter alcohol, swirling it around in the cold tankard. Lydia had yet to come down for breakfast and the weary man rolled over the idea of her being worried as well.

A feel of such emptiness overcame Vilkas as he sat at the small table. Falling for the Dragonborn hadn't been easy; his heart was harder than Skyforge Steel but she still wormed her way into it. Like the thief she was, she snuck into the strongbox of his heart and made a home there.

His ears perked up when he heard footsteps, but his hope was soon shot down when he heard the clang of steel mashing together, and then the sound of steel boots on the steps. She hated heavy armor, she confided in him once, "I can't bend my elbows." He had laughed and helped her out of the stiff metal. Vilkas felt bare without the heaviness pressing down on him.

Lydia sat down next to him and pushed a piece of bread towards him. Vilkas pushed it back and took a swig from his tankard, ignoring the cold sting of the metal against his lower lip.

"Vilkas, you mustn't worry. She's been late before." Lydia, the calm voice of reason, explained softly.

Vilkas slammed the metal cup down on the table. "She's not here, Lydia! I don't know where she is! I can't sit still while she's out there." He stood up abruptly, almost knocking the chair over in his haste. He walked calmly up the stairs, and when he knew he was out of Lydia's sight, his movements became hurried. He threw on his armor and removed his greatsword from the weapon rack. He shoved an extra tunic in the pack for traveling his wife always left sitting in the corner of the bedroom. He returned down the stairs and calmly sheathed his weapon. He approached the door when Lydia called to him.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to find her." Vilkas's voice was that of a broken man, "I have to know she's safe."

Lydia met his gray eyes and nodded.

"Here." Lydia extended a small parcel towards Vilkas. Inside was a single potion in a red bottle. Vilkas took it, muttered a quick thanks and was out the door.

Vilkas had been traveling for almost four hours when he smelled it. Her scent. Her blood. Mountain flowers and lavender mixed with the red aroma of life. His own blood roared in his ears and a wave of adrenaline flooded through him. Vilkas's hands curled into fists around the reigns of his horse. He followed her scent, his heart pounding, praying hers was doing the same.

He rode until he found the source of the smell, a small hidden cave. Her horse stood nervously outside it, signaling she was here. He entered stealthily, his sword drawn and bloodthirsty.

"Vilkas?" A broken voice called out.

The man's blood froze and he forgot about stealth. He ran toward the figure and kneeled by her. The leather of her armor was stained red and her boots were coated in the crimson color as well. With no time to waste, Vilkas removed her cuirass and pulled her cotton tunic up, revealing a gash on her rib cage The blood was flowing freely and he wondered how long she had been here. He grabbed the woven shirt from his pack and pressed it to her wound. The black-haired Nord's fumbling fingers grasped for the healing potion in his bag. Finding it, he pressed it to his wife's lips.

"Drink, love, it will dull the pain."

She obeyed and the bitter liquid went down her throat. She grunted feeling the torn skin warm and mend back together. Her eyes relaxed as the pain lessened. With a weak hand, she grabbed Vilkas's arm.

"My knee..."

Vilkas's breath hitched, he hadn't noticed the arrow protruding from her knee. He was taken aback when she chuckled.

"Guess I won't be adventuring anymore."

Vilkas shook his head and let his wife laugh at her own joke while he checked her for other injuries. Finding no more, he handed his wife the bloody rag he removed from her healing side.

"Bite down on this." It was a simple command, but the woman followed.

Vilkas held his breath and he pushed down on the arrow, wincing as it broke through on the other side of her leg. He spared a moment to glance at his wife. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her whole body was rigid. Her hands were balled up so tight that they were pale. Quickly, Vilkas broke the arrow off and pulled the offending arrowhead out. The potion was gone so Vilkas pressed his own linen shirt to the wound. She winced at the contact, but relaxed once it was done. The woman moved into a sitting position and shifted so she could be by her husband. The icy cave was freezing and smelled of death, and both people were glad for the warmth in the hovel. The couple was quiet for a few moments before Vilkas spoke.

"What in Oblivion would possess you to travel to an unmarked cave? Where is your follower?"

"I dismissed Sparky, all he did was complain." Vilkas met her warm eyes and silently asked her to continue. "Look." Her calloused hand held a golden box containing a gem. "The last one. Finally."

She cradled the gem carefully, almost lovingly while Vilkas spoke, "Was it worth it love?" He gestured to the bloody rags and scattered bones of the skeleton.

"Yes!" His wife exclaimed impatiently. "These have taken me more than a year to collect! Vex is going to be so surprised!"

Vilkas gave his wife a long stare. Then broke and took her into his arms, being careful of her injured leg. He pressed his face into her hair and mumbled. "You scared me love."

His wife giggled as Vilkas's beard brushed against her neck. Without breaking the hug, she pushed away lightly, "That tickles."

"You even had Lydia worried! You silly girl, you're not allowed to go adventuring alone any more!"

Her lower lip pouted out, "I'm not a child."

"Please, love, I don't want a scare like that again." His gray eyes were vulnerable, and revealed his fear and worry. She groaned and relented, pressing her face against his shoulder, unbarred by his armor.

Her tone was teasing when she spoke again in agreement, "Hmm, I hope you like adventuring."

Vilkas smiled, "More than sitting at home alone and making pies."

"Follow me, I need your help."

Vilkas kissed his wife on the forehead, "Lead the way."

* * *

Aww! Its and early Valentines Day gift for you, reader. You guys are my Valentines.


End file.
